“Do you have a husband?”
“No.”
“A boyfriend?”
My answer changed depending on who was asking. The truth? No. But most of the time I would say yes, to exit the interrogation more quickly, and guarantee that I would be left alone.
After months of my repeated “no’s” being debated, pressed and twisted into “maybe’s” I was broken. Multiple times I found myself in tears. “No means no!” I cried in anguish.
A “no” coming from a woman wasn’t respected on this continent. If a “no” coming from a woman is even respected on any continent at all.
I hated lying about my relationship status, because it meant admitting to both of us that I am not free. I am only respected or left alone when I am another man’s property. I am either claimed, or need to be.
Judgment ensued if the interrogator found out the truth.
“A young woman traveling alone.” Eyebrows raised. “Tsk tsk.”
It doesn’t feel fair that the physical form that my soul has taken in this lifetime changes the way that people treat me – and that I am expected to change my behavior in return.
Why does the way that anyone appears on the outside determine the level of ease through which they get to move through the world?
From the comments, it is clear that because I am young and a woman and alone, I should move through space differently than I am. They want me to accept that I am a target, that I am someone who needs protecting. That I am not someone whose desires and will deserves to be respected. That I am not someone who deserves the pleasure of her own company. To shift this judgment by one word – man – would be outrageous, it wouldn’t even make sense, and that’s how I know that my gender is a socially acceptable cage. I am expected to change my behavior in order to keep myself safe from men, and I am the one putting myself at risk by not doing so. By having the audacity to have wants and desires and acting on them, like traveling alone, like existing in the world.
Stop warning young women about the danger of traveling alone and start fighting for their right to exist in this world free from harm.
Viewing a young woman traveling alone as risky behavior is a slippery slope to victim-blaming. If something bad happens to her, it becomes about the fact that she shouldn’t have been traveling alone. What about the (man) who did bad things to her? Why do we not have an expectation that he treats her with the dignity of a human being? Why are we not doing something about it?
“She shouldn’t have been traveling alone” is no different than saying “she should have known with the way she was dressed.”
The whole point of organizing into a society is to pool resources and effort to take care of each other. To make it a little easier to be human by helping each other out. Sometimes what’s best for the collective isn’t best for us, but we participate because we know that overall it’s a win to be part of the collective, rather than fending for ourselves. So we agree upon a code of conduct, and establish a system for holding people accountable when they do something that is not in the best interest of the collective. By removing the consequences, by being inconsistent with enforcing them, or by operating with an assumption that harm will happen anyway, the incentive to act in the interest of the collective disappears. Society holds the power to prevent harm, and instead, the language we use to speak about it shifts the responsibility to the powerless to “not get in harm’s way.” When we expect the powerful to act in their self-interest, and let them get away with it, we’re failing as a society.
I’m not the one who should be behind bars.
To listen to others’ warnings about traveling alone – to change my behavior and stay home or wait for a male companion to protect me – is equivalent to accepting prison. “Yes, thank you. These bars are to protect me. So grateful to live my life behind them.” It is not living!
The problem is that most people are choosing the bars. Growing up, we had a dog who liked to go in her cage. Even when we were home, she’d go in there, door open. I think about that a lot. How her cage made her feel safe and secure. How she held the keys to her own freedom, but chose the familiarity and comfort of the cage.
In what ways are you limiting your own freedom? What are the cages in your life where you feel comfortable, but ultimately, are holding you back?
Maybe the door to the cage is already open, and all we have to do is step outside.
For too long we have asked women to change the way that they show up in the world in order to accommodate men, and women have done so and are continuing to do so today because they believe that it is the safe choice. I’m done with the rhetoric that tells me to succumb to the control of my body and my life for my “safety”. Instead, I am showing up in the world expecting to be treated as another human. It doesn’t always go my way. In fact, it frequently does not go my way. Remember, I don’t have power, so I’m often punished for challenging it. But I believe that the more women resist control, and show up in the world expecting to be treated equally, the more that we will be. At some point our demands will be too hard to ignore.
Change starts with questioning our assumptions, rewriting the narrative, and then taking action.
In Buddhism, there’s a mantra that when translated goes like this: “Purify the mind, to purify the speech, to purify the body.” It’s a wise understanding of the way that change works. The revolution starts with changing our perspective. It’s that small. Recognizing that the way we think and speak about our safety in the world reinforces a system that isn’t protecting us, and should be. We have to change our beliefs first. Then later we can shout from the rooftops, and – upon hearing our words echo back to us – see the effects play out in the world.
Expect equality. Proclaim your desires. Be free.
Your existence in this world should not put you inherently at risk. You deserve to exist free from harm.
